


Ungezähmt

by Zethsaire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Canon through most of Season 3, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, F/M, Feral Behavior, Feral Derek, M/M, Mates, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:05:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zethsaire/pseuds/Zethsaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek loses his pack for the third time, he can't cope.  Stiles is the only one who stands a chance of bring a feral Derek back to the man he used to be.</p>
<p>Spoilers for the ending of Season 3a, slight canon divergence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A slight AU where Cora does not recover from her mistletoe illness. Derek does not join the Darach in the final battle; Scott and Deucalion kill her on their own.
> 
> Warnings: Character death (obviously), evil Peter, angst, depression, language.

Chapter 1

“So...have you guys heard anything from Derek lately?”

Scott and Isaac stare at him, burgers loosely in their hands. Scott's got a little barbeque sauce around his mouth, but Stiles is really hoping Allison will take care of that for him. Finally, Scott says,

“I was just glad he hadn't killed anyone lately, to be honest.”

“I've texted him and called him like a zillion times. You know, last time we saw him Cora was practically on death's door?”

Scott looks uncomfortable. “Jennifer said she healed her.”

“We're trusting the Darach now? It's not like we've seen Cora. Or Derek. Or even Peter, for fuck's sake. I've tried their phones. I even went to Derek's loft, but it's empty.”

“Maybe they left.” Isaac says. “Derek hated it here. Now that everything's over...maybe he just went away.”

“Don't you have some wolfy connection that would tell you that? Or something?”

“No. I lost my connection to Derek when I left his pack.” Isaac shrugs. After everything they've been through, he doesn't think Isaac hates Derek, but they're definitely not close any more. Sure, Stiles gets why Derek kicked Isaac out the way he did, and he's pretty sure Isaac understands it too, but that doesn't make everything better.

Stiles drops his head into his hands. Does no one else see how big a deal this is? Three werewolves just drop off the map, one of them critically injured last they knew, and it's just no big deal? Yeah sure, Peter was a total dick, and Stiles really wouldn't care if he died, and Derek was an asshole on his best day but the guy still tried to protect everyone, in his own stupid way, and Cora – Stiles _liked_ Cora. He restarted her heart for fuck's sake.

Scott and Isaac seem to have picked up on his tension. Well, everyone at the table has, actually, but they thankfully haven't called him on his semi-public freak out. Allison reaches over and wipes the barbeque sauce off Scott's face as Scott says,

“Do you want us to go look for him?”

“Yes. Yes, please. It's just – Cora – I mean...haven't we lost enough people?”

xxx

Stiles comes along with Isaac to Derek's loft, both because he can't follow Scott through the woods, and because he wants to see if Isaac's wolf senses can pick up anything he missed. Everything seemed to be in order when he was there – well, as much as usual, which meant the place was trashed. But there wasn't any unexplained blood, or bodies or anything. It's probably fine. They just moved, without, you know, any of their stuff. The Camero is gone, what else does Derek need, anyway?

That theory is pretty much dashed as soon as they ride the lift up. Isaac starts sniffing the air, and his expression darkens as they reach the top of the lift. Stiles opens his mouth to ask, and Isaac holds up a hand. Apparently he doesn't want to be distracted. Stiles fidgets uncomfortably, but when they reach the top he leans against he wall and taps his hand anxiously against his thigh as Isaac stalks around.

Isaac sniffs a discarded pile of clothes for quite some time, and follows a trail of darkened blood across the floor to the wall, where there are huge gashes taken out of it. He sniffs them, and reaches a hand up, claws extended, lightly tracing the gouges. Then he retracts his claws and looks around the apartment, gaze intent. Eventually he heads to the second floor, taking the steps three at a time. He comes down about ten minutes later, and his face says everything.

“They're dead, aren't they.” Stiles says, his words flat and cold. He can't process it, even though he knows he's right.

Isaac hesitates, but says softly, “Cora didn't make it. I'm sorry Stiles. The whole place smells like death, and rage.”

“Lots – lots of people died here, though. Can't it be someone else?”

Isaac shakes his head. “It's different when pack dies. I mean, they're not my pack any more but they used to be. I don't know about Peter or Derek for sure but Peter's blood is all over the place. Derek's too, though with all the blood already on the floor I'm not surprised you can't tell. I think they fought after – after she died. But I can't tell who won.”

“Someone must have taken the body away.” Stiles said, his brain and words continuing while his heart feels like it's been ripped out of his chest. “They couldn't both have died.”

“The picture Cora kept by her bed is gone; the one with her family from before the fire. And Derek's picture of the two of them is gone, too. So there's a good chance Derek's okay.”

“If Cora died, he's not okay. If it turns out that Peter killed him I – I'm going to shoot him myself.” Stiles said with venom. He might be shit with a bow but he knows how to use a hand gun. Allison would loan him the bullets, he's sure of it.

Isaac stiffens a second before Stiles hears a mournful howl, so loud the windows rattle. It goes on and on, and Stiles just knows it's Scott. Isaac's eyes flash yellow, and Stiles covers his ears as he howls back. There is a pair of howls that echo Isaac's, which can only be the twins. They're not officially in Scott's pack, but apparently they're close enough not to be able to resist howling at Scott's grief.

“C'mon,” Isaac says after everything goes deathly quiet, “Scott found her grave.”

xxx

He shouldn't be surprised when he follows Isaac's directions straight to the Hale house. It's where Derek buried Laura, after all. They get out of the car and head over to where Scott is sitting in the dirt next to the house, looking completely defeated. He doesn't look up when Stiles and Isaac approach. He just talks at the ground, voice hoarse,

“I thought I saved everyone. I was just trying to save everyone. I thought they got out. I really did.”

Stiles comes over and puts a hand on Scott's shoulder, because he doesn't know what else to do. Isaac gets down on the ground with Scott and rubs his head against Scott's other shoulder, a whine of greif coming out of his throat. Scott reaches out and runs his hand down Isaac's back in what would normally be pack comfort, but nothing can comfort them from this. There are two fresh graves next to Laura's, and the pack memorial Derek had put in last year. One is marked with flowers and wolfsbane to let them rest in peace, and has a plaque with Cora's name on it. The other is only marked with a stone with the Hale triskellion, and a single wolfsbane flower.

Stiles asks, because he has to. “Is it -”

“No.” Scott and Isaac say at the same time.

“It's Peter.” Scott says.

They don't say anything at all after that, all of them dealing with their grief. Stiles doesn't even pretend he's not crying, just scrubs at the tears when they flow too fast and too much. Scott's shoulders are shaking, and Isaac's still making that awful whine. He knows he needs to call everyone; they'll all want to come pay their respects, too, but he just can't right now.

Some time later, Stiles doesn't really know how much later, his tears are dry, even if his insides still feel raw and open. He asks the question, because that's what he does. “So where's Derek?”

xxx

The next full moon comes and goes, and there's no sign of Derek. Scott thinks he left for good. They still haven't found the Camero, though Stiles hasn't been in the woods since they found Cora's grave, and he doesn't think the others have either. No one's looking very hard, because as long as thy don't find evidence to the contrary, then Derek could still be alive and okay. Stiles doesn't think he is though. He's been doing more research ever since they killed the Darach and were told more things were headed their way. Not learning magic really, just being prepared. He knows more about werewolves than most of the other wolves do.

Pack is a really really huge deal. He knows they're messed up about Cora's death, but not as much as Derek would be. Losing his pack, then his alpha in Laura, then having to brutally murder his only surviving family, then finding and losing Cora...Stiles is pretty sure if Derek is still alive, he's probably not sane any more. How the guy was holding it together before is a mystery. It's much more likely that he crawled away in the forest to die than that he went out of state somewhere. But he doesn't say anything, because Scott is already wrecked enough, and he can't take Isaac looking any more guilty than he does, like he should have known Derek was in trouble even though they aren't pack any more. And Stiles is dealing with his own grief. As long as they don't find a body, then Derek's still okay, right?

xxx

Stiles finds the Camero completely by accident. It's been a really shitty day. He's just turned eighteen, but since his birthday fell on a full moon, there was no one around to celebrate with him. In fact, Scott didn't remember for an entire week, when his mom of all people asked what they'd done for Stiles' birthday. His dad had been pulling night shifts for the last week, and is so tired and worn out that he can't even stay awake during Stiles' birthday dinner. He's been drinking too, like he always does on Stiles' birthdays when he thinks Stiles doesn't know. Stiles has had nightmares about his mom for days. He flunked a test, his car won't start, and he got mud on his favorite shoes. Finally he just says fuck it, and takes off into the woods. Maybe if he runs far enough he'll feel better.

So of course he ends up completely lost in a part of the Preserve that he doesn't recognize, because why wouldn't he, really. It's getting dark, and he's cold, and his cellphone is barely getting reception. He's about to try howling for help – hey, he can howl, who says he can't – when he sees a familiar vehicle ahead. The Camero is sandwiched between some trees and a rocky outcropping; Stiles can still see where the tires dug into the ground to get it there. It's parked haphazardly, like Derek was in too much of a hurry to be bothered to look where he was going, and one of the doors is cracked open. The rims are starting to rust, and it's covered in dirt and leaves, but overall, it's in decent shape.

Stiles walks closer and peers inside. The keys are still hanging loosely from the ignition. The two pictures that Isaac said were missing are in the passenger's seat, the picture of Derek and Cora is cracked, Stiles can just make out the image through the shattered glass. He's getting a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he looks into the back seat, and his entire outlook changes.

There are blankets back there, and clothes, arranged into this little...nest. He doesn’t know what else to call it. There was an old man on the edge of town who used to use one of his cars as a dog house. This looks a lot like that. The blankets and clothes look worn; slept in. There's some leaves and debris littered across the back, and there are actual muddy hand prints against the glass and some of the seat backs. There's even a gnawed bone or two back there. This...can't mean what Stiles thinks it does.

He hears a growl from behind him, and he closes his eyes. This isn't happening. Please, God, this isn't happening.

But the growling doesn't stop, it just gets louder and more intense, so Stiles turns around very, very slowly, and opens his eyes. It's Derek. Or – it's what might have been Derek, a few months ago. The first thing Stiles notices is how thin he is. Derek's not wearing a shirt, and there's not much left of the gym shorts he's wearing either. Stiles didn't even know he owned gym shorts. He's got a severe lack of muscle tone, so much so that even with the teeth and the claws and the blood red eyes, Derek's not nearly as menacing as he used to be. His ribs are showing and his face is hollow, his eyes sunken and almost black with lack of sleep. Clearly Derek hasn't been taking very good care of himself.

“Hey, Derek. It's me, Stiles.” He says shakily, because there's no hint of recognition in those eyes. In fact, there's no spark of any intelligence in his eyes at all, just raw animal. Stiles has read about omegas, and how without a pack they sometimes retreat so far into the wolf that they can't ever come out. Hunters aren't the only ones who will put down a werewolf like that – other wolves will, too, because having a feral werewolf around only endangers the local pack. But he hasn't read anything about an Omega keeping the Alpha's blood red eyes. Even when he's half dead, Derek is difficult.

“Please don't eat me.” He walks towards Derek with his hand out, really hoping that Derek will give it a sniff and not just rip his entire arm off. It would be even better if Derek snapped out of it and started insulting him, but he'd settle for keeping his arm.

Derek keeps growling, but he lets Stiles approach. His growl gets stronger at first, and then Stiles sees his nostrils flaring. It's really obvious when Derek's not trying to hide it, and he's wondering for the first time how much Derek can really smell. All the texts agree that born weres smell more than other wolves, and that Alphas have stronger senses than that, but no one really goes into much more detail.

After a few minutes of cautious sniffing, Derek's growl tapers off a bit, though Stiles can still hear him rumbling in the back of his throat. He takes this as a good sign, and walks a little closer. He can reach out and touch Derek now, if he wanted, but he's not sure if he dares. He decides to try to scratch Derek's hair, because what else are you supposed to do with a feral wolf man?

He lets out a girlish shriek that he will totally deny later when Derek grabs his arm and pulls Stiles close to him. Derek's not really standing, but he's up on his legs, pressing his face against Stiles' neck and collarbone, smelling him. Right, scenting, Stiles can handle that. It's not...really creepy or anything. And fuck, Derek smells. The first thing Stiles is going to do when he gets through that feral brain to the Derek underneath is make him take a bath because _gross_. His breath smells like he's been eating little furry animals for weeks. That thought makes Stiles want to gag, because he probably _has_ been eating little furry animals for weeks. Oh god, he was never going off by himself again.

Something about Stiles' scent seems to please Derek, because he stops growling, and starts...purring. There's this deep, happy rumbling in Derek's chests that's vibrating up through his body, and he's rubbing his face against Stiles' neck. It'd be cute if he didn't reek so badly.

Then Stiles is being pulled along to Derek's car – den? - and shoved inside. It stinks in here too, though the smells are mostly old sweat and the thick, musky scent of Derek. He's glad it doesn't smell of urine or blood the way he was afraid it might. Derek pushes him right up against the far door and piles in behind him, curling up next to him like Stiles is a body pillow or something. He's warm against Stiles' side and chest, and it doesn't take long for the whole car to heat up. Apparently American muscle cars make great werewolf dens.

He debates his options for all of five minutes before he decides he's really not going anywhere if Derek doesn't want him to. So he starts talking, telling Derek all about what's been happening since he disappeared, and how they looked for him, and how Stiles really hopes he'll come back to himself sometime soon. Derek doesn't seem to understand him at all - he doesn't respond verbally or non-verbally, just shifts closer to Stiles while he's talking. Stiles can't resist scratching him behind the ears, and gets a secret pleasure out of watching Derek's leg shiver when he does it, like a dog.

Eventually when he's talked a lot, even for him, he stops. He really wishes he had some water, but then he'd probably have to pee and that would just make everything so much worse. It doesn't look like Derek is planning on going anywhere tonight, and it's completely dark now, and Stiles has no inclination to go off into the woods in the dark alone. At least with Derek here he doesn't have to worry about being mauled by a cougar or something. It takes a while, but he manages to fall into a restless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Feral behavior, possessive behavior, almost unbearable cuteness. XD On the whole, this chapter's pretty adorable, actually.
> 
> Thanks as always to my lovely beta Commie, who helps out even though she doesn't watch the show.

Chapter 2

He's woken the next morning by his ring tone. He yelps and starts, head banging into the ceiling. At least Derek's not here; if he'd been startled Stiles would probably have a nice set of gashes along his body. He groans and gets out of the car, his limbs still asleep as they fish through his pockets for his phone. He cracks his back and answers his phone,

“Hello?”

“Stiles, where are you?!” It's Scott, and he sounds freaked to hell.

“Uh, well, I'm not sure.”

“What do you mean you're not sure?”

“Well...I'm in the woods somewhere. And good news! I found Derek. Well. Sort of.”

“Dude, you're not making any sense.”

“Look, I slept in the back of a Camero all night with a werewolf on top of me. And I haven't taken my Adderall. Just – look, you can follow my trail here right? I started just off Cove Drive and headed...west I think. And bring my survival kit! Oh, and you should probably call Deaton...I don't even know how I'm getting reception here. Oh, and my dad, is he still -”

“ _Stiles_. What. Is. Happening.”

Stiles sighs. It's too fucking early for this. “Look just. I'm going to stay here, because otherwise I'll get more lost. Bring my survival kit and some breakfast. I'll explain it when you get here.”

xxx

Stiles finds a convenient tree to pee on, and looks around for Derek a little bit, and then gets bored. It is hard to stay focused when he hasn't taken his meds. He's missed two doses now, and that always fucks him right up. Of course, if Scott brings his survival kit like he's supposed to, he'll have an emergency dose in there, so that'll help. And some food. Damn he's hungry.

Maybe most teenage boys don't think ahead enough to have an emergency survival kit, but as a human who runs with werewolves, you better damn well believe that Stiles has one. More than one, actually; he has one in his jeep, one at Scott's, and one in his bedroom. He has a first aid kit, matches, a lighter, a utility knife, water, high calorie trail bars, twine, fishhooks, a glass jar of mountain ash, a vial of burnt wolfsbane, an assortment of wolfsbane bullets, a pocket survival guide, a week's worth of his medication, and an extra change of clothes. He'd done Boy Scouts and he'd done a summer of wilderness survival training last year. After all the shit they've been through, he'd learned it was better to be prepared.

There is still no sign of Derek when Scott finally shows up. Isaac is with him, and they've brought his kit, to his relief. He is really hoping he can just go home without incident, but if Derek comes back, then they'll -

A primal roar reverberated around the forest. Isaac and Scott wolf out immediately, dropping the kit and the bag he is really hoping was full of food. Stiles groans and turns around to see Derek barreling towards him on all fours. He looks a sight. He's just dropped a dead deer on the forest floor that he'd apparently been bringing back for Stiles, and his mouth, hands and front are spattered in blood. He launches himself off the ground with a powerful shove of his legs, and lands between Stiles and Scott, who he clearly perceived to be the greater threat.

Stiles should have known better than to ask another Alpha to come get him. Why hadn't he thought of that. Derek is snarling, and when Isaac shifts to try to get around Derek, Derek roars in his face. Isaac flinches; Derek isn't his Alpha any more, but with the crazy, feral eyes and the blood and everything, Derek looks terrifying.

Scott is clearly gearing up to roar back, which really would just piss Derek off and not help anybody, so Stiles shouts, “Stop it! He's just defending me!”

Scott's roar turns into a bark of surprise. “ _Defending_ you? He looks like he wants to eat you!”

“It's not like that. He's not – he just not all here right now. But he didn't hurt me. He brought me breakfast.” Stiles waves back in the direction of the deer.

“ _I_ brought you breakfast.”

“Yes, thank you for that. But Scott, we can't just – I just need some time with him. He responds well to me. I think I can bring him back. I have to try, okay? I can't just leave him.”

“Why does it have to be you?” Isaac asks, clearly worried for him.

“Because, everyone else in the pack is either a werewolf or a hunter, or a banshee. I'm the only human, and I think he really needs that right now.”

“Stiles...”

Stiles steels himself, and then reaches out a hand to Derek's shoulder. Derek turns around with a snarl, but stops when Stiles shouts, “Stop that!”

Derek actually whines, and presses his nose to Stiles' hand. Stiles grimaces and tries to ignore the blood that smears across it. The important thing is that Derek is focusing on Stiles now, and his snarls have tapered off to a low warning growl. Scott and Isaac are staring at him with a mix of horror and wonder.

“See?”

“Stiles -” Scott tries to walk towards him, and Derek snarls again. He backs up helplessly, his features melting back to human as he tries to look non-threatening.

“Stiles, we can't just leave you here.”

“Yes you can. It's Spring Break, and I already failed my last test, so it's not like there's anything else I was planning on doing over break anyways. I just need you to tell my dad I'm out doing werewolf training or something. And ask Deaton what I'm supposed to do about Derek. Other than talking to him and trying to comfort him, I really have no ideas.”

Scott looks at Derek, who's crouched at Stiles' feet like a dog, still nuzzling his palm. It was obvious that he had no idea how to handle Derek like this, so it was a damn good thing that Stiles had already stepped up to the task. “I...yeah. Yeah, I'll go ask him. Meet you back here when we figure out what to do?”

“Yeah, I don't think I'm going anywhere. Might try to get Derek to wash off somewhere though.”

Isaac's sniffing now, and points off towards the direction Derek came from. “There's running water that way.”

“Thanks.”

“Good luck Stiles. Try not to get eaten.”

Stiles made a face. “We'll be fine. As long as you brought me food.”

“Yeah, it's in the bag. See you in a bit.”

Scott and Isaac take off, and Stiles looks down at Derek with a sigh. “Might as well eat breakfast, huh Derek?”

Derek makes a sort of woofing noise at him, and takes off towards his deer. This was going to be harder than Stiles thought.

xxx

It takes some doing, but he manages to start a fire, convince Derek that he really doesn't want any of the deer Derek had brought back, and sit down and eat his breakfast. Derek keeps whining at him while he eats, but Stiles really doesn't feel like watching Derek eat a deer raw, so he looks out at the forest while he munched on pop tarts, trying not to listen too hard to the sounds Derek makes.

Once Derek has been quiet for a while, and all his pop tarts are gone, Stiles turns around cautiously. Derek is sitting beside a pile of bones, which have been completely picked over, and is now licking the blood off his hands. He is actually a good deal cleaner than Stiles was expecting, except for the gore under his nails that Stiles doesn't want to think about.

“How was your breakfast, Derek?” Stiles is determined to talk to him like he is still a person. He is really hoping that will help bring Derek out of it. That, and companionship, since one of the biggest reasons weres lose themselves is because of loneliness.

Derek looks up at him, his eyes piercing, and still red. They have yet to fade back to his human color, even when his features are mostly human. Stiles wonders if that is a bad sign.

xxx

Trying to get Derek to bathe is an experience, to say the least. Sometimes it seemes like Derek knows what he's saying when Stiles talks to him, but other times he just seems to like the sound of Stiles' voice. Which is a nice change, but so not helpful here.

He'd managed to get to the stream that Isaac had mentioned to him, and to get Derek to go stand in it. _He_ isn't going in, it's freezing. Derek seems to like it though, even if all he does is stand there in the water with a stupid smile on his face. He really likes spending time with Stiles, apparently.

“No, Derek, you have to get _under_ the water. Otherwise you're just getting your shorts wet.”

Derek cocks his head to the side, like he almost understands what Stiles was trying to say. Stiles mimes what he hopes is a passable motion for ducking under water and washing off. “ _Under_ the water. Personal hygiene Derek, it's a thing. Even wolves take baths.”

Either his miming or his words seems to get through, because Derek wades into the deeper part of the small stream, and dives in. Stiles worries for a moment, before Derek's head pops out of the water and he grins at Stiles in that wolfish way. Stiles smiles encouragement. Derek dives back in, wriggling around under the water. It works okay, the water is running fast enough to wash away most of the blood and gore on him. At least he'll smell better.

A moment later, and Stiles is literally dodging out of the way to avoid being hit in the head with a fish. He stares, flabbergasted, as Derek dives back in, and throws out another huge salmon a moment later. Derek is....catching them food? Well...that makes sense. Derek probably spends most of his time looking for food. Or should have, anyways, but he must not be doing a good job of it, as skinny as he is. Maybe having someone to care for is reminding him to eat.

Werewolves burn a huge amount of calories, merely by existing. Living outdoors, burning calories to keep warm and defend a territory probably takes a lot more. And from what he knows, werewolves aren't like normal wolves; they can't get all their nutrients from eating carrion. Derek needs vegetables and carbs too. Maybe he'll eat some of Stiles' food later, since it looks like Stiles is going to be sharing lunch with him.

Once he's caught a dozen fish, Derek apparently decides he's caught enough. He bounds up out of the river and onto the shore, and Stiles has just enough time to shriek, “Derek, don't!” before he is being sprayed with freezing river water as Derek shakes himself all over.

Stiles splutters, water streaming down his face. It is a good thing he hasn't changed his clothes yet. Yeesh.

xxx

Stiles isn't going to eat his fish raw, no, thank you. Derek had been terribly interested in the whole process of cooking the salmon, watching Stiles gut the fish and put them on sticks to roast around the fire. He didn't let Derek eat the guts; he'd buried them. They'd just gotten Derek clean, and he'd changed into his only spare clothes. He couldn't get wet again. Derek pawed at the ground where he'd buried them a bit, but gave it up after a little while and came around to sit beside Stiles while he turned the fish so they wouldn't burn.

Scott and Isaac show back up about the time Stiles is finished cooking their lunch. Derek's head is in his lap at this point. He really hadn't known what to do when the man had huffed out a long breath and burrowed into his lap, other than try to restrain himself from developing what would have been the most inappropriate boner ever. Eventually he'd scratched behind Derek's ears, combing his hand through Derek's matted hair. It was a lost cause at this point; Derek was going to have to shave it off and start over if he ever came back to himself.

Derek growls at the other two werewolves, but his heart doesn't seem to be in it. He is comfortable and relaxed, and his eyes are still half closed from where Stiles is petting him. Isaac just raises his eyebrows at him, and Scott makes a disapproving noise, but doesn't say anything. Stiles is sure he'll hear about it later.

“Hey guys. We're just having some lunch; Derek caught it for us.”

“That's...good.” Scott says carefully. “How is he?”

Stiles shrugs, and keeps scratching Derek's head. “Not worse. And hey, he's not even trying to kill you.”

“Deaton sent you a bunch of stuff.” Scott looks to Isaac, who holds up a reusable grocery bag presumably holding werewolf aids.

“There's a bunch of stuff in here, but mostly it's food.” Isaac says. “Deaton's got some concentrated nutrient cubes in here, if you can get Derek to eat them, and he gave us...well...they're basically dog toys.”

“Dog toys? Really?”

Isaac shrugs. “Deaton says Derek's stressed, enough to try to find relief by losing himself to his wolf. Chewing on things helps stressed dogs, and he thinks the same thing will work for Derek. There's a couple bones in here, and this.”

Isaac pulls out what looks like a giant red Kong toy, stuffed with peanut butter. Derek immediately sits up, eying it with interest. Stiles tries to keep from laughing, he really does. But Derek looks hilarious like that; he's practically wiggling with excitement. Isaac looks torn between laughter and pain, so Stiles motions him to toss the thing. It goes long, and Derek's off like a shot after it. He brings it back, holding it triumphantly between his teeth, preening at Stiles.

“Yes, yes, you're an amazing hunter. You show that toy.” Stiles giggles. It's a lot less funny when Derek sits down to chew on it all over Stiles' jeans.

“Yeah. Good luck with that.” Scott says, and Isaac puts the bag of assorted wolf-y things down. “So...we're going to go. Switch phones with me; mine's charged. Call if you need anything Stiles, okay? Or if anything...changes.”

Stiles gets the impression that seeing Derek so completely lost to himself like this is seriously wigging the two of them out. He doesn't blame them. It would probably freak him out too, but honestly he's seen worse at this point. He obligingly switches phones with Scott and warns him that Allison better not sext him, and tells him to bring him some more damn clothes tomorrow.

They leave, and it's just Stiles, Derek, and Derek's toy, which he is just destroying. There's apparently honey in there too, and Stiles resigns himself to the fact that his jeans as a lost cause. He's going to make Derek buy him a new wardrobe when this is over, dammit.

At least the fish is good.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: language, potentially dubious consent, feral behavior.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's commented or left kudos so far!! This is the end; there's an epilogue left to post, but thank you for your support!!

Chapter 3

By the end of the week, Derek has chewed his Kong toy to pieces, along with all the other dog bones that Deaton had sent Stiles, and his little rag rope is ragged and sad looking. He's doing a lot better though; he's gained back most of the weight he's lost, his werewolf healing kicking in once his body was finally supplied with the right nutrients. He'd even started communicating. There weren't any concrete words yet, but he made a lot of different growls, and he nodded or shook his head, and it was clear that he at least knew what Stiles was saying.

It is their last night together, out in Derek's car. Stiles is worried about what will happen to Derek once he has to go back to school, but Scott and Isaac have convinced him that he can't stay. He already has an ache in his back that won't go away, from sleeping in the car for so long. He's made a resolution to come and visit Derek every day, and hopes that will be enough. He would bring Derek to his house if there wasn't such a danger to Stiles' dad, but he can't risk it.

Derek's head is in Stiles' lap, like it almost always is now, his nose buried in Stiles' crotch. It isn't as awkward as it had been the first time, but it is still...weird. Derek likes the way he smells, or something. Stiles tries not to think about it very much.

They've just gotten settled and Stiles is drifting off when Derek twitches violently, and sits up all in one quick movement. His eyes are wide, sweat is starting to bead on his skin, and his voice shakes, rough and hoarse from disuse.

“Stiles?”

“Holy shit!” Stiles yelps, unable to believe that Derek is actually talking to him.

“Stiles?” Derek says again, and now instead of being startled, he looks terrified.

“Hey, I'm sorry. It's okay.” Stiles doesn't know whether he should or not, but he tries to pull Derek into a hug and Derek goes with it. Derek's trembling and wolfing out a little, and he's breathing fast, like he might have a panic attack.

“It – not okay.”

Did he remember what made him go feral in the first place? Stiles doesn't want to bring it up if he didn't and he doesn't know how to ask about it without bringing it up, so he just runs his fingers through Derek's hair, scratching at that spot on the base of his neck that always seems to calm the werewolf down.

“Cora. Gone.” Derek says, and his voice cracks with pain. Stiles feels hot tears dripping down onto his shirt, and has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from joining him. Derek doesn't need to deal with Stiles' shit on top of everything he must be feeling right now.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“Peter...” Derek trails off, like he doesn't know the words for what he wants to say. He makes this horrible whine and presses his nose against Stiles' collarbone. “I killed him.”

“Derek, it wasn't your fault.” Stiles doesn't know exactly what had happened, and Derek is in no shape to tell him, but he will be damned before he'll let Derek blame himself for that. “Isaac told me there was so much blood that he must have tried to kill you first. You didn't have a choice, Derek.”

“They're dead.”

“I know. I know. I'm sorry.” Stiles doesn't know what else to do except hold him.

First Derek is leaning on him, crying into his hoodie, and Stiles is doing anything, everything he can to make him feel better while not letting him slip back away from him again. And then Derek's mouth is hot against his, and his bare back is warm, and there's so much fucking skin, and holy shit, what is happening here?

“Derek, Derek, stop.” He says, and he is so not panicking. Nope. There's no panic here. It's just that Derek keeps trying to put his tongue in Stiles' mouth, and that _really_ should not be hot, he knows where that tongue has been, dammit.

“Please.”

The word is raw, and Stiles almost gives in before pulling away again. “No, no Derek. I can't take advantage of you like this.”

“Not.”

Damn him and his inability to use words. Derek is lapping at Stiles' neck now, making these ridiculous sex noises, and it's awkward and terrible and so fucking hot that Stiles thinks he might come. It's not that he doesn't _want_ to fuck Derek; he's been having horribly inappropriate sex dreams about the guy since the first time he got slammed into a wall. Yeah, he knows it's unhealthy, but people like all sorts of things, so lay off.

“Derek, I – it's not that I don't want to, I do.”

“Then do.” Derek says, like that explains everything. Maybe it does to him. Just because he's speaking now doesn't mean that he's lost his feral edge. He's all want and need, and god, does Stiles understand that.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't.”

Things must be so much simpler in Derek's head. Stiles struggles for a moment, which is difficult, because Derek's got his hands up under Stiles' shirt. It's not like he's forcing Derek, or anything, because he couldn't even if he wanted to, and Derek is – holy shit, nnngh – very enthusiastic about the whole thing. So...it's probably fine. And he's even eighteen, and everything. Why is he saying no to this again?

“Yeah, yes, okay – mmph!”

Derek's mouth is hot against his, his tongue wet and insistent and holy _shit_ when did Derek learn how to kiss like that? It isn't like the guy has had a myriad of relationships or even people he talks to on a regular basis. And well, okay, Stiles isn't exactly experienced or anything, but he's hung out at the Jungle enough to at least know his way around someone's mouth and holy shit, it has never been anything like this.

“That shouldn't be sexy.” Stiles says in between kisses. “You're all...gross and stuff. Showering Derek. It's a thing we need to reacquaint you with.”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

It's good to have Derek back.

The sex is quick and frantic, and pretty much everything Stiles was hoping it would be if he lost his virginity in a car. Which, you know, wasn't his top fantasy on how he might lose it, but he's eighteen and car sex was at least in the top ten, and he's losing his virginity to a guy who actually seems to like him so, all in all, it's pretty damn awesome. Not to mention – Derek's tongue is an evil, evil thing. Especially when it's applied to places; namely, Stiles' entire body. Just. Fuck.

He's a little afraid they're going to jump right to anal sex, which he's really not prepared for. Yeah, sure he fingers himself sometimes, but it's not like he does it a lot, and there's not really any lube here and he's just really, really nervous about it. But Derek seems to be totally fine with just pulling off Stiles' clothes and _licking_ him. Which, you know, Stiles is totally on board with. He's not one of those guys who doesn't consider oral sex 'real' sex because hello, hot guy licking his dick.

“Shit, shit, Deeeeerek!” Stiles whines, his orgasm coming to him faster than he wanted, but at least he's managed to last longer than he thought he was going to. Derek doesn't stop.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!!” Then he's coming, and Derek is still licking and _ungh_. He collapses bonelessly against the seat and just _exists_ for a second.

“Wow.” He is officially not a virgin. And Derek is piling back on top of him, covering Stiles' body with his own, scenting him and protecting him. It's an Alpha thing, Stiles has read enough to know that. It's nice, actually, post-orgasm, with Derek's heat and soft rumbling purr. Wait.

“Derek, did you get off?”

“No.”

Oh. Well, shit. “Do you want me to, um?”

“No.”

That...really didn't make him feel better. His expression must have been something awful, because Derek whined and licked his face. “Stiles. It's fine. This.” Derek bites his lip and shakes his head for a moment, then says, “This is enough.”

He knows that it's way more complex than that; that things are going to be practically impossible tomorrow, when he has to go back to school, back to his real life and find a way to stay with Derek. He's also hoping there will be great sex and companionship, and then there's the whole thing where Derek just said that Stiles is enough for Derek to live for. No pressure, or anything. They'll have to get past the obstacles of Stiles' dad, and his friends, and they'll probably fight and things will get shitty sometimes. But you know, Stiles likes the sound of that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Bittersweet ending.

Epilogue

Three years later

“Hey Derek, are you awake?” There's no response; Stiles' voice echoes off the walls of their small house. He notes that the entry way and the area around the couch is littered with stress relievers – well, dog toys really, but they don't call them that since the Stuffed Bear Incident of 2014.

He goes into their bedroom, and is sad, but unsurprised, to see Derek still sleeping. Derek is curled up on Stiles' side of the bed in a ball, all of Stiles' blankets pushed up next to his nose so he can breathe in Stiles' scent while he sleeps. He's half shifted, nails out like they almost always are now, teeth a bit lengthened, pushing past his lip, ears slightly pointed, and he's just hairier overall than he normally would be. He's dreaming about something, and from the twitches he's making and the general down turn of his mouth, it's not pleasant.

“Derek?”

Derek whole body jerks at the sound of his voice, his eyes flashing, his claws coming all the way out as he comes awake with a snarl. It takes him a second to realize where he is, and who's talking to him, but when he does, he calms instantly. He's almost human now, except for the blood red of his eyes, but Stiles has almost given up hope that they'll ever go back to normal.

He makes this little half whine at Stiles, who shakes his head. He can't let Derek regress back into non-verbal communication, or they'll never get him to speak again.

“Use your words.”

It takes a few seconds, but he manages to say, “You're home early,” after a glance at the clock.

“I just finished my final in Advanced Chemistry. They let us go home after the exam.”

Derek is sort of eying the empty place on the bed next to him, so Stiles gives in and sits down, letting Derek snuggle against him and vigorously scent mark his shoulders, jaw and neck. There's this anxious little whine in the back of Derek's throat that doesn't really go away until he's covered Stiles in his scent and Stiles has scent marked him back. Once he's satisfied that Stiles is there, really _there_ , the whine fades and he breathes out a happy sigh against Stiles' neck.

Stiles closes his eyes for a moment, and brings up a hand to scratch at Derek's hair. Even after all the rehabilitation they did together, Derek probably isn't ever going to get better. Scott asks him sometimes why he puts up with it, usually after Stiles cancels on yet another friend get together when Derek's too anxious to leave the house, and too stressed to have Stiles gone for that long without him. Stiles doesn't even usually argue, he just looks at Allison for a few moments, and then back at Scott. He knows his friends understand, even if they all wish things were better.

“I made you a desk.” Derek says, and then looks up at Stiles like he's waiting for confirmation that that was a good thing to do.

“You made me a desk?”

“Last night. Didn't sleep well. Finished it while you were gone today. “

“Did you get any sleep at all?”

Derek looked at the clock again. “Couple hours.”

“You're going to bed with me tonight. I'll hold you if you want, that always makes you sleep easier.”

“Yes. I'd like that.”

“Do I get to see my desk?”

Derek looks pleased now, and he gets up, pulling Stiles to his feet. He doesn't seem to mind that he's still in the clothes he was wearing yesterday. Stiles will have to remind him to change if he doesn't think of it on his own before bed time. In a way, it's good that Derek doesn't like to go out much. He's still feral enough that getting him presentable for public is difficult, to say the least. Stiles is just thankful that he showers.

They end up going into the spare room that Stiles uses for an office, where he's been making do with a cheap out of the box desk from Walmart for the last six months. That's gone now, and in its place is a beautiful hand made oak desk instead. It's made from solid wood, treated and lacquered so that the large planes of wood are exposed and polished, while the thinner sides still have their original bark. It's got drawers and a shelf that looks just the right height to put his feet up on, and a slide out drawer for his keyboard. It's bigger than his last desk, and fits into the corner of the room perfectly.

“Holy shit, Derek.”

“Do you like it?” He sounds nervous.

“It's _gorgeous_. I can't even – I mean I see the stuff you sell to the shop but Derek, this is – it's perfect.”

Since they moved to Washington, Derek has kept himself busy making furniture. He is actually really good at it, and he stays human more when he had something to do. Plus his life insurance money won't last forever, and providing for Stiles is kind of a big deal for Derek. Between Lydia and Allison's connections, Derek has enough rich customers to buy every piece of furniture he makes. He makes gifts out of anything else, and usually the holidays are full of hand made wooden masterpieces.

Derek doesn't like going out unless it involves running around his territory, so someone comes to the house to pick up his work and take it wherever it needs to go. His checks are automatically deposited into their bank account, while the insurance money was now divided into a 401k and various stock options, so they will have money when they retire. On a good day Derek will come out grocery shopping with him, maybe meet up with their friends for food or a movie. On a bad one, he might get as far as their extensive garden or the woods behind their house. Sometimes he doesn't even get out of bed – those are the days Stiles takes off school, and just lays in bed with him while he shreds his toys to pieces. He doesn't have very many of those any more.

But even with all the difficulties they face, Stiles loves him, and Derek loves him back, with almost frightening intensity. There is every possibility that Stiles will be taking care of Derek for the rest of his life, convincing him to stay human and in touch with the world, instead of going feral again. It's a relationship that takes a lot of work, but so is any relationship worth having, in Stiles' opinion. And Derek makes him happy, and spends time with him, and makes him feel needed. So whatever happens, they'll get through it together.

And really, Stiles wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the reviews and kudos while I was working on this fic! You guys make me proud to be part of the fandom.

**Author's Note:**

> I've honestly read so much Teen Wolf fanfiction at this point, I couldn't tell you what part of my werewolf behavior is original or borrowed from fandom. If you feel a particular point is original and you'd like it to be credited to you, let me know!
> 
> Please review if you liked it! Comments help me keep going. :3


End file.
